Not Expendable
by Tales To Tell
Summary: Snape has a fit and gets a hug.


**Not Expendable**

In the headmaster's office. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Harry Potter.

Snape had just caught Harry doing something that he'd warned him not to do and wanted to throw the book at him, while Dumbledore and McGonagall were arguing that it wasn't a big deal. Snape disagreed and retorted that with carelessly overconfident Gryffindors involved, even brushing one's teeth could become a deadly activity.

"Is that why you avoid it so much?" said Harry.

Snape lunged at the boy, but Dumbledore pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him back with a warning look. "Severus. Restraint."

Snape shoved away from Dumbledore and the rest of the group, distancing himself from Potter. "I've restrained myself beyond human capacity!" he yelled from across the room. "Why not restrain the brat?! I specifically told him to stay _on_ the ground and _off_ the pitch! Not even a day later he was out there trying to break his neck! His defiance must be punished!"

"That isn't his fault," said McGonagall. "Mr. Potter asked me if he could fly, and as his Head of House, I gave him the go ahead."

"_Minerva_!" Snape's hands flew to his temples like he had a headache. He had a huge vein bulging in the middle of his forehead.

"Severus, I understand your concerns," said Dumbledore, "but I do not believe Harry was in any danger. The grounds are properly warded, and his broom has a height limiter and deceleration buffer. We have double and triple checked that the pitch is not unusually treacherous. We cannot keep Harry locked up until he graduates."

Snape rounded on Dumbledore. "_You_ cannot keep, keep, fffp, pffp…" As he struggled to get the word out, his eyes rolled back into his head and he began to fall.

"Severus!" yelled McGonagall.

She reached out to catch him, but Dumbledore was faster. He caught Snape and lowered him to the ground, laying him on his side as he started hissing and chattering, his muscles jerking uncoordinatedly.

Harry looked on in shock, his previous anger with Snape forgotten and replaced with bewildered concern.

McGonagall ran to the fireplace and fire-called the Hospital Wing. "Poppy, please come through. Severus is having some sort of fit."

The matron appeared quickly and kneeled beside Snape, waving her wand over his head. "He's having a seizure," she said, and performed some other spells. "It should pass in a few minutes."

Harry watched as Snape twitched and thrashed and flexed and bent. His eyes were flicking from side to side like he was watching a ping-pong match, and he had firmly chomped down on his tongue. It looked painful. Bloody drool leaked from the side of his mouth, and Madam Pomfrey spelled it away as it dripped onto the floor.

After five minutes, Snape started to come out of it. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's alright, dear. It's alright. The worst is past," Pomfrey said.

Snape groaned again and gagged, but nothing came up.

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. What was happening? He wanted to ask but didn't want to be distracting. He wished someone would say something.

"Poppy, will he be alright?" asked McGonagall.

"He'll recover within the hour."

Dumbledore frowned. "Why does it seem that you are not as surprised as the rest of us by Severus's condition?"

"Yes, Poppy. You're awfully calm, and you've not asked us any questions to find out what might have brought this about. Has this happened to Severus before?"

The matron hummed. "I can't say, Minerva. Severus asked me not to."

"For how long has this been happening?" asked the headmaster.

"I can't tell you that either. But I will say you needn't worry. They will stop after a few months once his nerves have healed."

"His nerves?" questioned McGonagall.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "I see. Thank you, Poppy."

The matron inclined her head and continued to minister to Snape.

"Tell me, Albus," said McGonagall.

Harry listened anxiously, his eyes still on Snape, who'd stuck out his mashed-up tongue so Madam Pomfrey could heal it.

Dumbledore sighed and looked sadly at the potions master. "I don't think Severus was completely honest with me about what occurred during his most recent meeting with Voldemort."

Pomfrey shuddered at the name.

"You mean when he was gone half a week?" asked McGonagall. "How so?"

Harry recalled Snape's absence. It had been about a month ago, a little bit after his near miss with Voldy.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "After Harry managed to evade Voldemort's clutches, Lucius Malfoy would've received a severe punishment, possibly even death. Severus had determined to save his life for Draco's sake, and though he never shared with me the details of how he'd accomplished it, I now believe he did so by taking the fall himself. It is likely that, at minimum, he was subjected to the crutiatus curse for prolonged periods during that time."

"He was gone four days, Albus," said McGonagall, her voice an incredulous whisper.

Dumbledore regarded her grimly. "Voldemort might've spread the punishment over several days so that his spy would not be rendered useless." He shook his head. "No doubt he also acted to prolong his pleasure."

"That's horrendous."

"It's my fault," said Harry, reminding the adults of his presence.

"Oh, Harry. No, it's not." McGonagall stepped in front of him and blocked his view of Snape. "Come with me, dear. Let's go to my office and have some hot chocolate."

Harry shook his head and tried to move around her. "No, I want to see if Professor Snape will be alright."

"He will be fine, Harry."

"Are you sure?"

Snape interjected. "F-fine. Go."

His weak attempt to speak sounded more like reassurance than a command, but McGonagall heard it for what it was and firmly guided the reluctant Harry out of the room.

Madam Pomfrey brushed Snape's hair out of his face. "Severus, how are you feeling?"

Snape responded by vomiting on her skirt.

She cleaned up the mess without flinching. "Not so well, then."

"Must I leave as well, Poppy?"

"I don't think so, Albus."

"Pop…"

She leaned her ear close to Snape's mouth to hear what he was trying to say. After a moment, she straightened up and waived her wand near Snape's hips.

Dumbledore noticed Snape's cheeks turning pink and rubbed his shoulder gently. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Severus."

After complete stillness for another five minutes, Snape slowly started to get up. Dumbledore gave him a hand and he accepted without fuss.

The matron cast a quick diagnostic on him as Dumbledore helped him to a chair. Snape waved her off. "I'm fine now, Poppy. Thank you."

She ignored him and conjured a glass of water. "Drink all of this, Severus. I'll be back with a nerve potion for you."

He accepted the glass and nodded.

Dumbledore regarded Snape severely as he drank the water. His eyes held concern as well as an unspoken reprimand.

"I'm alright, Albus," said Snape, vanishing the empty glass.

Dumbledore didn't look convinced.

"Really, it's no big deal. I just got worked up."

"Severus, you scared me half to death. I have a mind to relieve you of all your duties until Spring."

Snape scoffed. "As much as I'd love to get an early vacation from looking after hellions and dunderheads 24-7, that isn't necessary. I can still function, and it doesn't happen frequently. I can usually tell when it's going to happen, but for some reason today's episode came suddenly. I doubt there will be a repeat."

"And what if there is? In the middle of handling some volatile substance you collapse and injure yourself or worse. And what if there are students involved?"

The potions master huffed and crossed his arms. "I've already taken that into consideration. I have not brewed in the classroom since, and I will not do so again until Poppy deems me sufficiently healed."

"But you have been brewing."

"The hospital wing won't stock itself with calming draughts, blood replenishers, bone mending solution, dreamless sleep—Shall I continue?"

"Severus, your safety is more important than keeping up potion stocks. We could have outsourced them until you were better."

"Outside sources are inferior in formula and technique. I will not submit the students to sub-par medicines just because sometimes I fall down and twitch a little."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Before he could retort, Madam Pomfrey came back with a small cup of something. Snape took it and knocked the contents back then returned the cup. "It's different," he said grimacing.

"I doubled the concentration."

"Why?"

"You were down twice as long as today. It should compensate."

Snape cringed. "I'm not your guinea pig, Poppy."

"No, you prefer to be the subject of your own experiments." She smirked. "Like determining the effects of not regularly drinking your potion."

Snape glared at her.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice, Severus? Your nerve endings are much more inflamed than they should be at this point. Why aren't you taking the potion?"

"I take it on weekends," Snape growled. "On weekdays, I need to be alert. I cannot afford to be knocked out unresponsive every day."

"It doesn't knock you out."

"It dulls my reflexes."

"I told you the side effects would get better as you healed. By taking the potion so infrequently, you're only making it take longer. You are sabotaging your own progress and risking permanent brain damage."

"I am fulfilling my obligations to this school! Brewing potions, teaching idiots, and protecting the damned Golden-Boy! Nowhere in my contract does it say I have to be in pristine health. In fact, I'm sure I signed a waver releasing the school from responsibility for my injury or death. As far as I'm concerned, damage is in my job description. We're in the middle of a bloody war and I'm straddling both sides. I'm not deluded to think that I'll make it through unscathed. The only mystery to me is which side will be the one to put me out of my misery."

Dumbledore grabbed Snape roughly and pulled him to his chest. The younger man struggled to escape his grasp, but he held firm.

"Severus, I'm sorry," said Dumbledore, his voice tense. "I know I ask the unreasonable of you, but don't think for a second that I do so lightly. You are not expendable. I do not casually ask you to risk your life. It bothers me that you must submit yourself to danger, and it distresses me that you are hurt. Every time you answer his summons, I await your return with bated breath. This last time, when you did not come back for days, I thought the worst had happened. When you did return, I was so relieved that I was eager to take your word that you were alright, as I did not want you not to be. I can't imagine what you went through. Being tortured for days by a madman. Alone. Away from all who care for you. I'm amazed that you did not lose your mind. Others would have, but you are strong and dedicated. And exceedingly brave. I wish you had confided in me about what you had endured, but even more, I wish I could have spared you."

Snape hid his eyes in Dumbledore's shoulder and breathed into his robes. Only by intense force of will did he not break down. He accepted Dumbledore's embrace and allowed himself to be comforted.

"Take care of yourself, Severus. Don't take it for granted that your pain is unavoidable. For your own sake, and for this old man who worries, and who loves you."

Snape did cry then, silently. He brought his hands up to return Dumbledore's hug, briefly holding on to the material at his back. A moment later, he pulled away entirely and sat back down, looking as though nothing had happened, no evidence of his emotional release except a slightly damp patch on Dumbledore's robes, and a bit of redness in his eyes. He rolled them exasperatedly and regarded Madam Pomfrey. "Since you are so insistent and I do not wish to be nagged to death, I will take the potion daily as you desire." He crossed his arms and slumped back in his chair, turning his head away poutily.

Dumbledore smiled as he watched the act then nodded at the matron. Madam Pomfrey smirked then quickly bent down and kissed Snape's cheek, making him blush. Before he regained the composure to respond, the mediwitch had already gone.

"Intolerable woman," muttered Snape. His tone belied his words.

Dumbledore understood then that much of Snape was a façade. He'd known it as a fact, but now he had seen it firsthand. Snape pushed when he wanted to pull, insulted when he wanted to appreciate, and denied when he wanted to accept. Belittling his own value hid his wanting to be needed, and his ease with the thought of dying hid his yearning to be saved. He was so used to hiding his true self that perhaps he no longer remembered what it was. Dumbledore made a vow that moment. He placed his wrinkled hand on top of Snape's head. Before it was all over, before his time was through, he would help him figure it out.


End file.
